This be the plague most of us are suffering from these days. Plague because it is destructive. Plague because it is widespread. Plague because it seems almost impossible to remove. And these days, cynicism is paramount in most peoples’ minds. Simply because it is the only thing left to hold onto when all else fails. When you have given your all, and there seems to be no hope left, cynicism is a great buddy to lean on. A sort of sado-masochistic comforter. A protector from within against all forces within – love, hurt, hope, joy. Cynicism gives one a temporary respite in a storm tossed sea. Yet it is one of an emotional nature. And therefore that respite is tinged with pain and hurt and a lot of anger. Tinged thus because we care. Because if we did not, our cynicism would be as is. Indifferent. Unaffected.
But it is not so.
It is a cynicism that we are gouging out of the very tendrils of hope we have had for this country and its people. For the love we bore when we stayed or returned or always had an inkling for. For a better tomorrow. For a country we could hand to our children with pride and joy. Instead we are compelled to sit as one on a burning ship, hoping that Poseidon would exist and in his mercy, save us from ourselves. We have through the very means of fair play we advocate (democracy) allowed ourselves to be fooled, used and abused by a handful of self serving bastards for who the country has always been second to their own vanity. Yet their propaganda machine would rival that of the one in Animal Farm of Orwell fame. And the herd of Lanka continues to chew on the fodder fed to them.
Helpless is what one feels these days. Helpless and hopeless. Yet are we this helpless? Colombo society has too long been shackled by its own self induced prejudices and notions of grandiose status and pedigree which has been nothing but an impediment to progress in every sense of the word. We are waiting. Waiting for a ‘worthy’ candidate. Waiting for someone who actually gives a damn about the country. Waiting for that ‘saviour’ of the nation. And in this great game of waiting, we are waiting for Godot. Coz unless we ourselves join the fray there is really no one who is gonna come and ‘save’ any of us. We are merely fooling ourselves. Every time it’s the same monkeys in a different circus. But hey, we aren’t gonna be doing politics ok? Coz we aren’t gonna be hanging out with murderers and corrupt officials. We aren’t going to be using black money.
So tell me – who is gonna be put forth if we aren’t going to go in? The ‘Silver Spooned Intelligentsia’ refrains for self preservation purposes but expects miracles from the herd that they themselves have helped breed and keep as a herd. From the ashes grow the roses, only if one has planted the seeds of roses. Right now it’s bitter gourd taking root with glee. And that is breeding this wonderful emotional cynicism that we all possess – we care but we don’t want to. We want change but not at our expense. We want justice at the price of nothing. We want it all but we don’t want to give up anything.
So hence we cling onto emotional cynicism in the faint hope that it will save us from ourselves. If not the country, then at least let us die in peace. Or so we hope.